


Sick Day

by princessoftheworlds



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Owen Harper & Ianto Jones Friendship, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27421705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds
Summary: Ianto catches an alien flu from Jack, and Owen is left to watch him.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Owen Harper & Ianto Jones
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

> Self-explanatory! Enjoy!

“I told you not to kiss Jack,” Owen says patronizingly as he gazes down at the grumpy Ianto who is curled into a tight ball on the couch. “Just because the Beunarian flu is targeted towards a certain gene fifty-first century born humans happen to posses doesn’t mean us twenty-first century humans would be exempt from catching it.” He sighs, taking in Ianto’s trembling and the sweat glistening on his forehead. “And look what happened? You bloody caught it.”

Ianto grits his teeth. “If you wouldn’t mind buggering off right now,” he whispers, “your voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard.”

“Is this better?” Owen asks sarcastically, dropping his voice to a whisper almost as quiet as Ianto’s. He slowly rolls Tosh’s wheeled chair closer, mindful of the faint creaks. “You’re lucky you don’t have to be isolated like your boyfriend. Tosh says that the purple still hasn’t faded completely from his skin.”

“Why are you still here?” Ianto groans, teeth catching on his bottom lip. His fingers dig into the ragged cloth of the couch cushion. “We’re not going to die from this alien flu.”

Owen nods. “You’re right. You’re not going to die, but I have to make sure that you don’t do something like grow a third hand from the experimental vaccine I created.” He looks considerate. “Though I suppose Harkness would like that.”

“Could you bring me some water?” Ianto questions, and he sounds horrible and raspy enough that Owen actually springs to his feet and scurries away to the little kitchenette tucked away on a lower level.

When he returns, Ianto is nowhere to be found, the couch conspicuously empty. Owen’s eyes narrow. Apparently, even blindingly ill, Ianto moves like a bloody ghost.

Quickly, he raises a hand to his comm. “Tosh, we have an escaped patient. Ianto moved when my back was turned.”

Tosh’s response is a quiet sigh. “How did you lose a sick man in the Hub?”

“Don’t underestimate his sneakiness,” Owen replies. “Now, any idea where he would go?”

“Wait!” comes Gwen’s cry. “I see him on the CCTV. He’s limping over to the infirmary.” Her tone is wonderous. “How did Ianto make his way here so quickly?”

When they all finally rush to the infirmary, they find, in the only bed occupied, one completely purple Jack Harkness laying flat and breathing shallowly. He’s fast asleep, and curled up against him, skin even paler against the vivid purple, is one Ianto Jones, his nose tucked against Jack’s neck. Both quiver together, skin glistening with sweat.

“Awwww,” Tosh says, eyes - and voice - soft. Even Gwen looks gooey-eyed.

“Yes, yes, I agree,” Owen snarks. “They’re both precious.” He snaps his fingers before both women. “Now help me separate them before they both spontaneously combust.” They shoot him alarmed glances, and he rolls his eyes. “Next time, you are all required to read my full reports before we open up containers of plant spores from the Rift.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [here](http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/) or on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/rajkumarinik). I tweet and reblog mostly Torchwood with occasionally amusing commentary on nonsense. Please come talk to me and tell me if/how much you like my fic or like ask me about it on tumblr; all my schoolwork has become remote now, and I have limited social interaction.


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